“What about it?” Hunsacker said. “That’s not murder!”
“The card from the bar he frequents was found at the grave site!” she hollered back.
Hunsacker grimaced. “That’s a popular bar. A lot of people frequent that place, including me.”
“Be quiet. You don’t want to miss this next part,” Finch said.
That was when Butch, wearing a lugubrious expression, started crying on-screen. He said a consultant hired by the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office had killed Demon, only he didn’t use the dog’s name. “Demon” didn’t exactly make the animal sound friendly. He went on to add that the bullet could’ve struck him, that it was dark and he was running around, trying to figure out what had set his dog off. He said he didn’t even know Francesca had “broken into” the yard and, of course, added “again.”
The whole thing made Francesca sick. “It’s all lies. He’s the biggest liar I’ve ever met.”
Apparently satisfied that he’d shown her the worst of it, Finch paused the television. “I don’t have to tell you the backlash has been huge. Every TV station in Prescott has called, asking why we think we can infringe on the rights of innocent citizens.”
“You’re pretty skilled at letting the public know only what you want them to, so you should be able to dance your way around that, don’t you think?” she said. “I mean, seven women have been murdered but the public doesn’t even know there’s a serial killer on the loose. Instead, they’re getting this martyr crap—” she waved at the frozen image of Butch crying over his dog on screen “—and thinking I’m the bad guy.”
“You might not be the ‘bad guy,’” Finch said, “but you’re no asset to this investigation. I called you in here to inform you that you’ve been ordered to stay a mile away from Butch, his property and every member of his family.”
Francesca felt her jaw drop. “That’s crazy. Laughable.”
“Maybe it is to you.”
“You’re getting too carried away with damage control,” Jonah warned. “Butch isn’t the nice guy he seems to Hunsacker. I don’t care if he gives the poor every dime he’s got. Don’t forget that someone cut Ms. Moretti’s phone line the night after she had that little scuffle with Butch. It’d be pretty damn coincidental if it was anyone else.”
“And we’re keeping an eye on him,” Finch said. “Which is what you were supposed to be doing last night, watching from a distance. It’s not as if we’re ruling him out. We’re just…taking a less aggressive stance until this blows over.”
“So public safety becomes less of a concern than saving face?” Jonah said.
“Look, I don’t give a shit what you think!” Finch jabbed a finger in Francesca’s direction. “I’m stuck with the mess she created and this is the best way to clean it up.” Turning back to Francesca, he lowered his voice, suggesting he felt at least a little bad about what he was doing. “Just so we’re clear, this is a court order. If you break it, you’ll be jailed. I suggest you return to Chandler, keep your mouth shut about any proprietary information you have on the investigation so far and leave us the hell alone to do our jobs. Otherwise, you’ll be charged with interfering in a police investigation.”
“This doesn’t end here,” Jonah said.
“It won’t do any good to talk to the sheriff.” Hunsacker smiled. “You have nothing more to do with this case, either.”
Jonah’s nostrils flared. “What did you say?”
Finch slid the file he’d brought in across the table. “It’s true,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve been terminated.”
“You think you two can solve a case this size all by yourself?” Jonah demanded. “You’ve never even worked a serial murder before.”
“We won’t be by ourselves. We’re forming a task force. Prescott P.D. is loaning us some manpower. So is the state patrol. It’ll be announced today, when we go public with the news of what was found in Dead Mule Canyon.” Finch drew a deep breath. “And now, I have to get back to my office.”
Circumventing Hunsacker, Jonah caught Finch’s arm before he could leave. “So I’m the scapegoat? Firing me is how the department plans to repair its image?”
“You’re an independent contractor. That makes you expendable,” he said.
22
Although Jonah had never been fired before, there was a small part of him that was actually relieved. He’d been struggling with this assignment ever since Francesca became involved in it, but he would never have allowed himself to bail. That would’ve smacked of running from the challenge—not the challenge of the case but of dealing in any sort of normal manner with a woman he was afraid he still loved. Finch’s actions alleviated that problem, removed personal choice from the matter. All he had to do was take Francesca back to Chandler, where he’d left his rental car. Then he could book a flight to L.A., return the car when he hit the airport and say goodbye to Arizona. The next time he was invited to accept an assignment in this state, he’d think twice.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” Francesca had been so worked up she’d insisted on driving, but Jonah didn’t mind. Somehow, becoming a passenger further relegated him to the “along for the ride” category. He was no longer responsible for anything, he realized as he sat with his seat partially reclined, gazing out at the passing scenery.
“It’s politics,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got other clients, right?”
She lowered the volume of the radio. “I wasn’t getting paid, anyway.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were hired by April’s sister.”
“Jill just lost her only sibling. I can’t charge her fees on top of that.”
He studied her for a second. “Isn’t that what private investigators do? You’ve got a mortgage like everyone else, don’t you?”
“My mortgage isn’t the point. This isn’t about making money. I’ve got plenty of work. It’s about putting away the guy who murdered all those women. I think we’ve got the leads to do that. I mean, what about the card from that bar that showed up at the burial site? That Julia person Paris mentioned? The fact that Dean was a patient at the mental hospital where Bianca Andersen worked?”